


My Enemy; My Spark

by Yulicia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: In a flicker on white there stands but an ember,whose touch burns when his finger pricks at it.He gasps, pulling back,and realising that for the first time that he could feel.
Kudos: 5





	My Enemy; My Spark

Life was but an endless empty void,  
grey and muted reds, cold and unfeeling as hardened steel.   
There was a numbness to living,  
an emptiness of a soul longing to be filled. 

In a flicker on white there stands but an ember,  
whose touch burns when his finger pricks at it.  
He gasps, pulling back,  
and realising that for the first time that he could _feel._

He chases the ember,   
watching as it grew to a tiny, fragile flame.  
That cold unfeeling steel turned red,  
as it’s song filled his heart with joyous chorus. 

Others try to steal that flickering light,  
but find themselves engulfed by fire.   
Their greedy fingers cut themselves on a sharpened, borrowed blade,  
rotting as their flesh burns away. 

The flame stays steady, but it remains much too small;  
not enough, never enough,  
‘til a brilliant light appears in the darkness,  
swallowing the pathetic little spark. 

He would do anything to feel that light again,  
to be burned by it’s cauterising caress.   
His friend, his enemy, his light,  
the one being who could bestow upon him   
the feeling of the heavens. 

This is a beast of tooth, and fang, and claw,  
this champion, this tiger made a man.   
His prey stands ready,   
and for once his sport brings him meaning. 

There was no fear in death,  
in the glorious destruction he should have wrought.   
He feels pain, he feels _alive_ ,   
he knows he is to die.   
There is contentment in death,  
for his blood would paint these flowers red,  
as his heart sings beneath a clear blue sky. 


End file.
